Spellbound
by Serena Scarlet
Summary: Witch!AU. In which Soul owes Maka, a fledgling witch, his firstborn child. Only problem? He doesn't even have a girlfriend. Drabble series.
1. Witch's Pact

There were many productive ways Maka could have spent her Friday night.

Staring at the white-haired man in front of her was not one of them.

"So…? Where is it?"

He didn't even look at her, too busy messing with some spot on the wooden kitchen table.

"I told you already, 'it' doesn't exist."

She narrowed her eyes. "We had a deal, Soul Eater. I saved your life from drowning, you owe me your firstborn child. I know you are probably attached, but a deal's a deal. It's been two years. Now hand it over."

He rolled his shoulders and final decided to look at her. He had just the slightest tinge of annoyance hanging on his face. When they were both sixteen, she had been practicing her broom flying at night when she noticed a strange blotch of white in the usually calm dark lake surface below. She had gone down and fetched the poor wretch out of the water, but the damage was almost too much. Luckily, she had a rejuvenation potion left in her bag (better safe than sorry, Mama always said) and that managed to save his life. But it's not like that rejuvenation was cheap, or even easy to make. Hell, that particular bottle took Maka three months and four tries to get right!

So when he woke up she informed him of the witch's pact. They don't do favors that big for nothing, and the price for a saved life would be paid for by another one.

Such were the ancient laws that this _idiot_ was trying to resist.

A languid sigh brought her attention back to the present. "Look; I don't even have a girlfriend. So you are wasting your time here. Thanks and all for saving me two years ago, but I don't have anything for you. I mean, I would offer to pay you but…" he gestured to the space. It was indeed quite sparse, Maka had noted.

She frowned. Surely, a young robust man like him should have secured a wife. She did give him two years, after all! That's the suggested time limit in every manual about getting firstborns. It was one of the highest achievements a witch could conquer, and Maka was willing to do anything to get her name out there.

Anything.

Including matchmaker, it seemed. But she would have to go about it in a roundabout way.

"You don't have any physical ailments right?"

He perked up. "What—

"Like leprosy, frequent colds, dyslexia, maybe even impotence—

"No," he cut her off, "…no, I do not. Why?"

"I'm just wondering if there's any reason you haven't secured a wife yet."

He looked at her. "You're kidding me, right?"

"What? You're young. You're fit. Surely the girls in the village should be fawning over you."

Soul slumped back in his chair. "Yeah but, not when I look like this." He waved a hand vaguely over his body.

The junior witch was still confused.

"Like…what?"

"You know. Freakish albino hair. Blood eyes. Not exactly attractive."

"I don't see anything wrong with you." It was true. His skin was tan from working long hours outside, and his complexion just brought out the vibrant crimson hue of his eyes. Eyes that were staring in her own for just a bit too long, right at this moment.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "You would be the first."

Something very hot and very painful ran from her stomach through her chest.

"Um," Maka quickly composed herself, straightening out the crinkles in her black skirt. "I ought to be going now. I'll be back in a few months. Find yourself someone to marry by then. Thanks for the tea."

She stood up, grabbing her broom handle from where she had propped it on the doorframe. Her feet almost made it past the doorway when he called out to her one last time.

"And if I don't?"

She smiled.

"A Witch's Pact is everlasting, Soul Eater Evans, and one way or the other, _I will have your firstborn child._ "

A/N: Inspired by this post.

Just getting some writing done to destress from studying. This is just a drabble, but I hope you liked it all the same. Red Shoes Ch. 3 coming out soon ™


	2. Wheelbarrow'ed

He had just finished tying up his last bundle of hay when he heard a sharp crack of wind. Soul didn't need to look up to see who had arrived, but he did so anyway. She had taken off her large black hat and was fanning herself, hair turned gold from the setting sunlight.

"Hey."

"Hello, Soul Eater. Do you have a child yet?"

He frowned. "It's only been three weeks since you've seen me last. Do you have any idea how reproduction works?"  
"Of course!" She puffed her cheeks, then took a breath to stall herself. "Alright then, a wife…or girlfriend, as you call it. How has that been going?"

"My love life is the same as last time, which is nothing. I told you, I don't have time for your stupid pact thing. Go harass someone else." He didn't mean for the words to come out as harsh as they did, but he had just spent the full day chopping down food for his livestock and he was _exhausted._

She seemed unfazed. "Thought so; I've taken the liberty to gather intel on potential brides nearby."

From her bag, she lifted out several sheets of parchment paper. From what Soul could see, they were marked corner to corner with dark green ink.

 _Great._

She shuffled through, until a satisfied little smile graced her face. He just continued to stack the day's labor into his wheelbarrow, and then started walking back to his cottage while she trailed behind him.

(With a wave of her hand, the wheelbarrow started pushing itself, so he quietly thanked her.)

"Marie Mjolnir?"

He gagged. "That old blacksmith? Are you kidding me?"

"According to my notes, she's still of reproductive age—

"Yeah, and she could be my mother. Besides, I think she has a thing going on with the village doctor. No way."

She pursed her lips and simply moved down the list.

"Crona…huh no last name…"

"Crazy. No chest."

"There's nothing wrong with a slim figure. I'm rather flat-chested myself," she chastised, while glaring at him a bit. Whoops. This was the part where he said something cool to downplay the situation.

"Well, it's still a chest." He smirked.

Smooth, Soul. Smooth as corn oil.

She had decided to ignore that comment, for both of their sakes. They were approaching his back shed now, and all he could hear was that damn "shuffle shuffle" of parchment as she looked for another possible mate.

"What about Elizabeth or Patricia Thompson? They are both close to your age and body preferences. Either one of them look like they would be healthy mothers."

He groaned. "I've known Liz and Patty since I was six. They're a whole 'nother brand of insane. Last time they came over to hang out, we ended up running away from the mayor's stable in our underwear."

She huffed and threw the papers rather strikingly at his feet. "Look, I'm trying to help you get a girl here. Are you trying to tell me that there is no one, _absolutely no one_ in this village that you would even consider?"

Soul always thought the witch looked the best when she was mad. Something about that concentrated fury that coiled her spine, her entire posture ready to attack. Even the air would prickle with the threat of magic.

Was there anyone he would consider?

 _You, maybe._

He shrugged. "Maybe I haven't met the right person yet."

Maka crossed her arms and looked to the side.

"Well, knowing you without my help it would take you years—no _decades—_ tofoster a child. So it looks like we'll both need to work hard in the coming months. For our mutual benefit."

When she was acting this cute, he couldn't help but tease her.

"What if I decide to be single my whole life?"

Her eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

"I could. More time for myself, no crying babies running around and killing themselves on my scythe. Yeah, that sounds pretty good."

He got the reaction he was hoping for.

"Soul you can't just…" she threw her hands into the air with a cry of frustration. "Ugh! Don't you know what this means to me?"

They had made it back to his front door now. The sky was already turning shades of navy blue.

"Have you eaten dinner?"

"Excuse me?"

"Dinner. You know, food you eat at night. I'm making potato leek soup."

She was still peeved, he could tell, but honestly this was the most entertainment he had gotten all week and he wasn't going to let her fly off that easily.

But the witch stood there, hands wringing the edge of her cloak.

"I mean—

"Maybe I'll decide to settle down after we get some food."

It was bait, Soul knew. But she took it, and he reeled her in.

She gave off one final steamed breath and opened his door before he could do it for her.

"You better."

 **A/N: This AU is consuming my soul…**

 **Idk if it's obvious or not, but Soul has a small farm. Basically a vegetable garden and some goats and sheep. He sells the wool/goats milk for whatever else he would need to survive. I've established how he got there, but I don't think it's relevant to the story so I might just write his background here in these author's notes.**


	3. Warmth

"What exactly do you do with it when you get it?"

She looked up from her reading. "Excuse me?"

It was winter now, and that meant the main harvest was done. She had taken to spending her days at Soul's cottage nearly daily, especially since the mountainous abode she shared with her coven was unnaturally chilly this time of year.

Maka noticed the darkened sky outside the window. When had it become this late? The crackling fire was nice though, and lit up the whole room with a toasty glow.

Soul cleared his throat to catch her attention again.

"Sorry. What did you say?"

He licked his lips, suddenly unsure of how to phrase his next words. "What exactly do you witches do when you get a firstborn child from someone?"

She paused. He must've taken her silence as something sinister though, because he paled.

"Oh no, don't tell me you guys eat it or something—

"Ew, no! Soul, do I look like a cannibal to you?"

"I don't know, I've seen the way you've torn into a turkey leg."

"That was one time!" she threw back, but laughed all the same.

In the past few months, she'd grown more comfortable with the young man. While she still tried to set him up on blind dates or point out eligible bachelorettes to him, she found herself coming around to his place more often for his company and less often to try to convince him to conceive her end of their deal.

When their giggles died down, she could see he was patiently waiting for her answer.

"We usually take them in," she started, "and sort of raise them as our own. Most become sort of like indentured servants, gathering materials for potions or cleaning up around the house."

She closed her book and continued. "Some even become witch apprentices, if they show enough innate magical skill."

"Wait. Regular people can become witches?"

"Well, that's what happened to me."

Soul became very quiet. This was the moment she didn't know she had been dreading.

She opened her mouth, hoping that some magical words would just appear to rectify the situation.

"My mother, she was the witch that took me…in."

He seemed to stare at the book that she was nervously turning in her hands, before looking up at her. The soft glow of the fire reflected in his eyes.

"So you've never met your real parents?"

His voice was quiet, like a prayer.

"No," she responded in kind.

He gave out a short sigh. "I don't remember much of my family either," his eyes flicked away, "…my parents both died when I was four."

Her heart lurched. "Soul I'm…I'm so sorry—

"It's fine, like I said, I don't really remember them. I came to live here with some distant relatives soon after." He shrugged as if to show off the room.

Then he was doing that thing again. Staring at her. This time, there were no words to be said.

Luckily, the distant chimes of the town's bell tower made up her mind for her.

"It's getting late." She waved her hand and her broom practically flew to her hand.

Her companion looked conflicted. Just as she was tugging on her cloak, he spoke up.

"Wait. Um, I was thinking about that."

"Thinking about what?"

"You leaving. That is. You've been coming around a lot lately."

She smiled, one eyebrow quirked. "Yes, yes I have."

"Well, I was wondering, if you wanted, you could stay here for the night. In the guest bedroom. Anytime, really…"

Soul? Rambling? Where was that gruffy farmer from earlier, to when she asked how the girlfriend search was coming along, had responded with some key choice words that she had never heard outside of the encyclopedia?

"…You've been talking about maybe setting up an apothecary for some extra change, and well it has its own fireplace so…"

"Okay."

He stopped talking, eyes locking onto hers once again. His head nodded slowly.

Soul showed her the room. It was pretty simple, if not a bit dusty. The bedding had a scythe pattern, which Soul had to explain to her.

"I mean mo—Ms. Sandsbury made it for me when I was like what, ten? This used to be my old room."

She giggled. "And you thought scythes would be cool?"

"Hey, I was ten. Anything sharp and dangerous was cool."

"I'll remember that for next time."

Minutes later, she collapsed on the bed exhausted. It sure would be nice to avoid having to fly back to the mountains in the blistering cold.

The sheets still smelled like Soul.

It reminded her of home.


	4. Wicked

He tried, okay, mainly for her to finally get off his back.

His dates with Blair were all awkward and short-lived, especially when he had discovered that he was "Boyfriend #4." Luckily, they hadn't done more than hold hands, so he didn't have to worry about catching any strange disease.

Still, despite his dismal feelings for the village barmaid in the first place, break-ups suck. Soul was feeling down for the better half of a week before Maka came up with the courage to ask him about it.

After telling her of his woes, she just seemed irked and went off to her (his?) bedroom without another word.

And now he came home to this.

The small purple cat mewed softly in Maka's lap, as she turned the page to yet another one of her huge books. He almost asked her why she decided to get a familiar now when he recognized the necklace amid the purple fur.

"Maka…"

"Hmmm?" He could tell she was trying to avoid his eyes.

"Did you turn my ex into a cat?"

She gave him a guilty smile. "Maybe?"

"Why would you…change her back, will ya?"

She pouted, which was simultaneously cute and frustrating.

"But why? She's so nice and _mild_ like this." As if the accentuate her point, the small feline curled up against Maka's hip.

"Yeah, but that doesn't justify dooming someone to a life of drinking milk and— _hey get off of me."_

The cat was rubbing itself on his pant legs, in the process letting the mud from today's work get everywhere.

Maka was looking at the whole ordeal, lips a thin line. "Seems like she's still a player."

"Not cool, Maka!"

She crossed her arms. "Do you really want her back? She…she hurt you."

Something warmed in his chest. "Were you worried about me?"

"No. I just…"

"We broke up because I walked in on her making out with Gerald. Gerald. The shoe maker, who smells like five degrees of piss—

"Okay, alright, your point?"

He held the kitty at arms length, and tried his best to look serious in this absurd situation. "We're over. An ex is an ex. I didn't really like her that much anyways."

She made a flabbergasted noise at this. "But you guys courted for three weeks."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, three weeks of her dragging me to every damn store in the village. I swear, if I ever see another ribbon…" Soul trailed off.

It was true. All he had wanted was a cool drink after doing some shopping, and he ended up with his server aggressively hitting on him. He had a feeling Blair only went out with him that day (and the next three weeks) so that she could link arms with the village oddity, and show off how nicely purple contrasted with his white hair or tanned arms. He wanted to say no, but there was a lilt to her voice that could charm snakes and Maka's constant woes of finding him someone loomed in the back of his head.

But his witch wasn't like Blair. Maka would never drag him around like an exotic handbag, and the words that came out of her mouth were sharp and ruthless and oh god that's just the way Soul liked them.

Or, that one part of his mind whispered, it wasn't that he had a type. It was just that she was what he wanted.

He liked her.

What a great time to realize it, when his ex-turned-cat started peeing on his boots.

"Ah god Maka!"

"Okay OKAY."

She grabbed the cat and nearly force-fed her a shimmering magenta liquid. In a puff of purple smoke, Blair-the-human was laying on the ground.

Naked.

He groaned and averted his eyes. "Why?!"

"Hey, Soul-kun~"

"Oops."

After a full five minutes of him facing the wall, Blair was re-clothed.

Soul finally managed to slump on a chair. "I'm so sorry this happened to you Blair."

"Why? It was fun!"

He looked at Maka, who was looking back at him with eyebrows raised.

"R-really?"

"Yeah, I've always wanted to be a pet. It's nice being pampered for. When can we do it again?" she started braiding her hair, as if this was a normal Tuesday for her.

"Uh, I'm not sure that's how it works," Soul stammered.

Maka looked contemplative, then finally huffed out. "Alright, I'm sorry for turning you into an animal. In return, I'll grant you the power to change in and out of that form whenever you wish."

She closed her eyes and started a low chant of words Soul was sure he never learned. The pendant around Blair's throat glowed once, twice, and then returned to its normal silver shine.

The air was electric, just a reminder of how much power was packed into one small girl.

Her eyes opened and all Soul could see was _green green green_.

"Okay, try it now. Just imagine being a cat."

Blair quickly squealed and closed her eyes with glee. Within seconds and another puff of smoke, the purple feline was trapped on the floor beneath her own dress.

Maka scooped her up into her arms. "She is rather cute like this, but I don't think such a whimsical woman would have made a good wife for you, Soul Eater."

He thinks back to the brief time he had spent with the mauve-haired woman. How he was so surprised by her height or frame or whatever, like he was expecting shorter. And lighter hair. And green eyes that could (probably literally) _kill._

He looks at her, the one who he can finally admit to himself he likes (and maybe much more than he will admit today) and tries to remind himself not to kiss her when all she wants from him is for him to settle down with _someone else._

Soul swallows the lump that has tensed in his throat. She was still expecting an answer.

"Yeah, I didn't really click with her anyways. Looks like you'll have to wait longer for that firstborn."

Is it too hopeful for him to pretend that the sigh she gives out is due to her relief?


	5. White

"It's pretty on you."

"Huh?"

She stared at him leaning on the door, her hands half up to fasten a bit of ribbon around her hair. For a moment, she wondered what he could be talking about until she looked down and remembered.

Oh yeah.

Laundry day.

Maka must've given him a strange look, because he immediately retracted his gaze to glance at some corner instead.

"No really. I've just never seen you in…not all-black?"

She finished tying a knot before opening her jaw, carefully mulling over her next words.

"Thank you. You're right, I don't really wear white often. Kind of goes against the whole image."

"Image?"

Maka may or may not have noticed him casually making his way over to her bed. HIS. His old bed. She was just a guest here, lest she forget that.

Regardless of the bed's true ownership, it was being occupied by one Soul Eater Evans.

What were they talking about again? Oh, right…

"You know, being a witch has certain connotations that one has to uphold in order to maintain their status as a magic user." She puffed out her chest, a bit wary of where to sit now that the bed was taken.

As if he could read her thoughts, he patted an empty comforter corner next to him. Inviting.

Maka was nothing if not polite.

She sat down.

"Really? Stuff like what?"

"You're quite curious today."

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, as if staring long enough at it would fix all his problems. "It's a cold, slow day. Nothing really to do around here."

She takes his answer and breathes out a sigh.

"Like, the whole broom and witch hat and dark clothing thing. It helps with the authority of being a witch, you know? If you went to someone for a potion to treat their chronic back pain or some little curse to put on your neighbor and they were dressed up in pink froo-froo and daisy chains you wouldn't trust them with a hint of copper. People want to see what they…expect."

Silence. And then…

"…You know how to cast curses?"

She smiled back, all teeth. "I do, want to try it out?"

One glimpse of his astounded expression and she was a fit of giggles. He joined her thereafter, his low brush of chuckles doing strange warm things in the pit of her stomach.

"Y'know, I think white really does some good for you." He let his fingers wander to the hem of her skirt, nearly brushing against the side of her knee.

Nearly.

She watched as his dark ruby eyes kept staring at the fabric, deep in thought. Entranced, almost.

(But she couldn't let herself think like that. _Wouldn't._ )

Soul continued. "Brings out a lighter side of you."

She ignored her heart thumping and snatched her hem out of his hands. "Well, sorry for being broody. _Witch."_ She emphasized, letting the word hiss through her teeth.

He looked back into her eyes. Red on green.

"Yeah, and I'm a farmer. But right now, you're also Maka and I'm just Soul, and I think that's more important anyway."

And he left her room like that, leaving her more confused than ever.


End file.
